


Moonlight

by ink_stain



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Rathbone films)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 04:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17501762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_stain/pseuds/ink_stain
Summary: We stood there, a steady wet drizzle and the cold night wind for company, an unconscious man at out feet,but despite all that, or maybe because of it, I thought it all incredibly romantic.I could have kissed Holmes then and there, the far moon our only witness.





	Moonlight

**Moonlight**

_by_ ink_stain

 

I pulled the door shut behind me, with such force, that I myself jumped, as the door shook in its frame.

''What have you done with my Tobacco, Watson? I need my Tobacco to think, Watson! Get me some Tobacco! Watson. Watson. Watson, do this, do that, so typical!''

I was in quite a temper, and on my way to the Tobacconist.

 

I kept my face turned to the flagstones below me, in as much an attempt to shield my face from the wind, as to watch were I treaded, for a constant soft drizzle had made the stones slippery.  
When I had made it about halfway through London’s deserted streets, my anger had fled into the cool night air. Surely there was an explanation to Holmes behaviour, there usually was. All I had to do was wait and soon everything would clear itself up, or so I hoped…  
Lost in thought, I wasn't paying any attention to what was going on around me. When I suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice to my right side:

''Aren’t you the Doctor Watson?''

I stopped for a moment, waiting for my thoughts to catch up to the situation. This afforded me the opportunity, to get a good look at the man, or as good as was possible, in the dim twilight between street lamps. He was well dressed, as far as I could make out and held himself like a gentleman, but there was an air of cruelty about him, that I could not quite place. Maybe it was his awful smile, that made his eyes seem all the colder. This was not a man by whom you would want to be recognised.

''Never mind who I am, be off with you.''

I hurried on, in hopes that he would lose interest in me. He followed me, however, speaking in low, confidential tones. I tried to ignore him, but it didn’t really work.

''You must now, I am a great admirer of your work and your nerve, to get so close, to live with such a man. I couldn’t do it, not for all the money in the world. Your stories are an enormous success, of course, but is it really worth it? Surely, it would be far easier to make as much money as possible at once, instead of the years you would have to wait, until your story's have earned you enough to finally be able to get away from this madmen. Consider it. One last payment and then, you would finally be rid of him. How does that sound? And all I want you to do in return—''

By then he had already walked some time beside me and when I looked around me, I found myself in a small, dark allyway. At first, I hadn’t understood what he meant and what he was trying to say, but by now it had become quite clear to me and I was determent to give him a pice of my mind on the subject. I didn’t mind him insulting me, but how could I stand by and allow this villain to talk about Holmes in such a way! I am certain that he could not have understood everything of what I said in answer, for all my mumbling, but in the dim light it seemed to me, that he had understood all the most important parts, for his mouth twisted into an angry snarl, that fit his eyes much better then his smile had ever done.  
I watched helpless, as he drew his gun and then pointed it at my chest, in one fluent motion. Stumbling backwards involuntarily, I could feel the cold, unyielding wall behind me. All energy seemed to leave my body and I had to lean heavily on my walking stick. My mind seemed to went blank, but for one, despairing thought that circled round and round: I hadn't taken my service revolver with me. Why would I have done so? I was out to buy some Tobacco for my eccentric love.

 

I was overwhelmed by the sudden feeling of indescribable relief, when Holmes jumped from out of the shadows to my left side and with his cane, struck the gun out of the villains hand. It fell to the ground with a clutter and slithered out of reach.

''The famous Mr. Holmes! What honour!'' our foe growled out from between clenched teeth ''Come to save his pet, I see!'' and with that, he lunged for Holmes throat.

He in turn, sidestepped him, spun around and added to the other man’s momentum by pushing him between his shoulder blades, with the head of his cane. The villain, unable to stop himself, ran headfirst into the wall, against which I leaned and which had been at Holmes back a moment before. He sunk to the ground with a groan and lay unconscious.  
All was over in a flash and I could do nothing but watch. I do not enjoy the feeling of being to slow, I don’t want to be useless. Therefore, I clumsily walked the few steps over to Holmes, who stood with his back to me, over our, now quite harmless adversary, starring down at him, were he lay in the mud at his feet. I knelt beside him, with some difficulty, to check the condition of the man. As I did so, I caught a look of rare anger on Holmes face, that unsettled me.  
After I had finished my examination, I tried to rise to my feet, but my stick, on which I had put most of my weight, slipped on the wet stones. Strong hands caught me from behind and helped me stand. Somewhat out of breath from the scare, I turned to Holmes. All the anger had drained from his face, but instead of his usual mask of cool detachment, he wore an expression of worry. When he noticed that I was watching him closely, it quickly melted into one of utter warmth. I must confess, that it is by far my favourite expression and I could not help myself, I blushed furiously. We stood there, a steady wet drizzle and the cold night wind for company, an unconscious man at out feet, but despite all that, or maybe because of it, I thought it all incredibly romantic. I could have kissed Holmes then and there, the far moon our only witness.  
The moment was broken by heavy footsteps that announced the official police force and soon enough, Lestrade and his men came around the corner. Holmes explained what had happened and then excused us, for the small ally had gotten quite crowded by then.

  
  
On our way home, he linked his arm with mine, as much to be near me as to support me, I suspected. He seemed still upset, but I wanted to give him the opportunity to sift through his thoughts first. I was sure that when he had gotten through them, he would tell me what was the matter. We had been walking for some little time and had just turned into Bakerstreet, when Holmes spoke:

''I had seen that fellow watch you from afar, for some days now and rather then wait, not knowing when and what would happen, I wanted to bring matters to an end, swiftly and under controlled circumstances, you might say. I thought that I had recognised him, as a little fish of no great importance, but with much criminal energy, an occasional blackmailer, a thief. No murderer— though, it seems he wanted to change that this night. That is why I invited our friends from Scotland Yard along, as they might be interested. To that end, I hid my Tobacco from you and accused you of having smoked it all yourself.''

He stopped and turned to me, as far as our interlinked arms would allow.

''I misjudged him and unnecessarily endangered you. I am very sorry, my dear fellow.'' before I had drawn the air to protest, he continued ''You do realise of course, how foolish it was to antagonise him and in a dark ally at night, of all places.''

''He insulted you Holmes! How could I just stand there and do nothing, he said that, he implied that I—''

''I know what he said and I don't care. I don’t want you to endanger yourself for something as petty as that. You are infinitely more valuable to me than my reputation! I don't want you hurt.''

  
  
We had settled down before the fire, each in his favourite armchair. I was tired and sleep was not far of, Holmes was wide awake. Steady clouds of smoke curled up from his pipe. His expression was vacant, sometimes he focused on me, as if to make sure that I was still there and then he vanished again, to whatever place his thoughts had taken him.  
Then, suddenly, he sat up.

''It’s no use, there is not enough data!'' he exclaimed.

''Not enough data on what?'' came my drowsy reply.

''I can’t say, not yet.''

I huffed and he smiled indulgently.  
Turning to his left, he put his pipe down upon the small table beside him and stood, offering his hands for me to take and helped me up. Then he stepped closer, until we were but inches apart and turned his hands in mine until our finger interlaced.  
I got my kiss and without a soul to interrupt.


End file.
